A Goat's Tale
by robspace54
Summary: An extra-marital investigation gives Magnum more than he bargained for and it leaves him in the dark...
1. Chapter 1

**A Goat's Tale**

by Robert E. Schorry

One – Not Dead Yet

It started with a goat. Well, not exactly. It really started with a cheating husband. Over the years Higgins had accused me of living off of divorce cases. Sometimes it was true. Yes, I, Thomas Sullivan Magnum III, Navy vet, long time private investigator, and O'ahu returnee was snooping around after an extra-marital cheater. In spite of my better judgment I had taken a divorce case all because of a rather large auto insurance bill. You see a long time ago, when I lived at Robin's Nest in the guesthouse, Robin Masters let me use his Ferrari. You know which one – the red 308GTS. Well, now in 2010 that car was mine, in more than just driver ship – my name on the title and everything - and the insurance lady was not happy about a recent accident.

I hadn't even been driving the car when it happened. It was Nick Christopher, the new head of security at Robin's Nest, who was chasing a reporter from his Afghan days who was blackmailing him. The case got solved, mainly because my new friend Rita Barzkoff - Postal Inspector and wannabe private investigator - helped me crack the case. During a road race on the East Shore of O'ahu, the Paradise Isle, the red Ferrari had gone airborne and decelerated into a ditch. The repairs were sizable and expensive, and since I had not exactly been forthright with the insurance writer on how that car would be used, I needed money.

Oh, the Ferrari got repaired, but my wallet was hurting. So when Rita's friend of a friend of a friend, a flighty blonde named Deirdre, called with a job – I had to take it - for the money and to please Rita. My biggest fear was that Higgins would find out, and he'd be down on me again. But for that matter, when wasn't Higgins on my case?

So Deirdre's soon to be ex-hubby was sneaking around on a rendezvous at a restaurant between Kaaawa and the Crouching Lion Inn up on the East Shore. Not that I liked doing this. But business was business.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking Magnum, you're retired from the Navy, you've written a book, and you've got a fast red car and a sweet new girlfriend, so why were you doing this?

Maybe it's not just the money. Maybe it's the thrill of the hunt. I'm not dead yet, to use a Monty Python line.


	2. Chapter 2

Two - Waiting Table

The soon-to-be-ex-hubby was named Frank and the lady he was meeting was a looker. One with money, based on the jewelry she was flashing, the designer dress, and the BMW she had driven up in. I didn't have a name for the pretty face yet, but she looked like money through and through. I'd been told that Frank was in the t-shirt business, and things were not going well. Chinese imports were killing his business. So while he was looking for a new bed partner, he also needed dough. Just like me or anybody.

Frank and the pretty lady had a long dinner (she had grilled mahi-mahi and he had prime rib) while I waited tables. You see, my old friend Rick Wright knew some people, so I was a waiter tonight. The eatery was called The Happy Rooster and it sported a rural Hawaiian theme. I was a waiter tonight to I keep an eye on things and see who Frank was meeting. He was drinking Manhattans and the lady was working on a chilled Italian white and since the restaurant had no wine steward - Higgins would have said sommelier – I was serving mixed drinks and the wine, plus their dinners.

Deidre, the wife, came upon a cryptic note in Frank's day planner, which sent me here to check out things. When the host seated them, I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I got a good look at her. I mean Frank was no Adonis, just an ordinary guy – 40s, balding, thick in the middle – but the lady was cool water in the desert.

She was tall, stacked, and blonde, with icy blue eyes that were matched by the blue sequined low cut gown. Diamonds graced her fingers, wrist and neck. I think her hairstylist was trying to bring back into vogue the big hair of the 80's. On her it looked good.

Frank was sucking down Manhattans while the lady savored Italian grape. His wife told me he was an Army vet and he could hold his juice. Eventually they worked their way down to dessert and coffee. I'd been able to pick up a few tidbits of their conversation over their three hour feast but I hadn't heard much sweet talk. Oh it was there, but it was more of a protracted dance than I expected. There was a lot more chat about dollars than the tango if you know what I mean.

I had just presented the bill and the lady grabbed the placard. Frank was not happy.

"Jackie! No! Let me get it!" he protested.

Ah! A name for the knockout lady at last.

She pursed her lips. "Frank, it's on me. Let me pay for it. This is a business meeting after all." She smiled at him through teeth that must have cost thousands. And the rest of her looked like it was picked out of a catalog too. Some surgeon must be very proud.

Her words set my little voice to whispering. Was this a date or business? Or _business_? I palmed the credit card and bill and walked to the cash register. I rang up the charges for a Jacqueline Jean Wray thereby giving me part of the puzzle. I could get Rick to run her ID through his friends later. Rick's old friend Ice Pick was either strumming a harp or shoveling coal into a fiery furnace, but Rick still had connections, like always.

I raced through the nearly empty restaurant and presented the receipt. Ms. Wray looked up at my quick approach. "My, my, we are attentive tonight, aren't we?" she sneered.

Uh-oh. I kept my waiter's face in place. "Ma'am, I'm just returning your credit card. Please sign here," I said pointing to the charge receipt.

She picked up the pen and twirled it. "It seems to me that I know you from somewhere. Now where might that be?"

"Me? Oh, I don't know. I'm moonlighting tonight. Helping out a friend." I waved to the restaurant host, who returned it. A couple phone calls this afternoon and forty bucks later I was a waiter. And the tips weren't bad either.

Frank butted in. "Jackie, let the guy alone. He's nobody." He looked me up and down. "But for a waiter, you sure look fit." He sized me up again. "I hope I look that good when I'm your age."

His comment stung. I thought the crisp white shirt and dark pants made me look elegant - a uniform rental shop had cut me a deal for the weekend - although the tie and cummerbund made me feel silly. "Thank you, sir. Just run two miles a day and swim another three and you might look like me. Someday." I smiled icily. "Please come again. I hope you enjoyed the evening. Good night." Frank tried to suck in his belly as I answered, but it was no use – he'd had too many drinks and heavy dinners – and not enough exercise.

"Hey, listen." Jackie blurted out. "I'll remember where and when. You can bet on that." She gave me a nasty look that gave me the willies. "Maybe I'll see you again."

I turned and stared at her. "Looking forward to it." Two could play at this game.

Jackie reached out and grabbed my wrist, hard. "Yeah… I think I've seen you. You run around with that Rick Wright. I know for certain I've seen you at his condo place in Waikiki."

"Maybe you have, ma'am." I pried her hand off my arm. "But I sometimes tend bar in the lounge next door. You might have seen me there. Goodnight." I walked away with as much grace as possible, knowing Jackie's eyes were burning holes in my back.

Whew. Bombshell Jackie was distrustful. I'd played the eavesdropping too much. She was sharp. There was steel along with the glam in Ms. Wray and Frank had better watch out. She would eat him for breakfast if he wasn't careful. My little voice said their dinner wasn't about romance or a quick fling. Not at all. This was bad business and Frank probably didn't know what he was getting into.

I heard Frank ask, "Now what was that all about?"

She shushed him and they left the table. Every male in the place checked out the sequined designer gown and the body in it. After the testosterone level in the air dropped, I cleared away dirty dishes to the wash station and helped the other waiters clean up. Forty five minutes later the host turned out the open sign and the place went dark. The kitchen crew would stay for a while but the wait staff was done. The host parceled out the assignments for the next night as I headed for the door.

"Hey, Magnum!" the host called. "You busy tomorrow night? I got a party of twenty coming and if my other guys call in sick again, what am I going to do?"

I smiled at him. "I've got a feeling your sick waiters will make a miraculous recovery." I shook his hand. "But thanks for the offer." The eighty dollars in tips felt good in my pocket.


	3. Chapter 3

Three - Night Ride

I stepped into the O'ahu night blowing the slightly stale air out of my lungs. The tropical breeze was glorious and the air was cool. I took a few minutes to look at the stars and then slid into the Ferrari, which I'd parked at the back of the lot. The cool leather felt nice on my too-warm back. Everybody complains about overly cool restaurants, but it's to keep the workers from overheating. At least I'd spent little time in the kitchen, which was way too hot.

The car started easily. TC's garage had put the car back together very nicely after Nick tried to plow the south 40 with it. The motor was sweet. I engaged first gear, dumped the clutch and the car moved like silk. I turned right onto route 83, the Kamehameha Highway, and headed towards Robin's Nest.

Rita had come over this afternoon to spend the night. It's not what you're thinking. Really! I said I'd give her surf ski lessons in the morning, and we wanted an early start. And I did intend to use the couch – if she wanted the bed.

But I was looking forward to seeing Rita tonight. Just to relax and talk some. I'm sure that she wanted more in our relationship. In fact she essentially asked me to move into her house. I didn't exactly give her an answer. I mean… well you know. I'm older, and please don't ask by how much, I'm a bit worn at the edges, and she really needs a younger and better guy than me. I mean, really - why would a forty year old lady want me? I'll let you ponder that. Maybe you'll come up with an answer.

I drove only a mile or so through the stretched out town of Kaaawa and was just hitting a rural stretch, when glaring headlights behind me crept up close, too close. I up shifted and the car kept coming. I nailed the engine and took off. Somewhere south of Kualoa Ranch the car caught me and started dogging my bumper again. Their lights were too bright, some of those super bight lights they use now, and I couldn't really see who it was or what the car was. I flew into a turn, pumped the clutch and dropped two gears, then nailed the gas at the apex. My tail had to brake and hard, and I got a glimpse of halo of blonde hair behind the wheel as the car slowed quickly.

So Jackie and her BMW were trying to take off my bumper. My little voice was saying that this whole thing was a very bad idea. I really had no business doing this job for Deirdre and I just knew this was going to cost me, big time. And it was a shame I had a personalized license plate. MAGNUM in capital letters was pretty obvious. I should have used Nick's car for this errand. The road took a few more turns, but I dashed into them with glee, the g-forces pinning me into the molded bucket seat. It had been a while since the Ferrari was up over eighty but the engine and gearbox were smooth. She liked to run fast. My hands were on the wheel or shifter, feet playing a tune on the pedals, but I really wished I'd put on the seat belt. Nasty bad habits will eventually bite and I couldn't spare the time to buckle up. It flopped at my left shoulder like a neglected pet parrot.

Out of a tight turn, that's when this goat appeared in the headlights. I twitched the wheel to the right to go around him and the right front wheel dropped off the blacktop. I could feel the tire dig into soft stuff and branches reached for the fender. I pulled the wheel left, but the lip of the roadbed fought me. More brush raked the car, so I put in a little more left wheel and the tire climbed back onto the road, and the car launched to the left. That's when I really missed my seatbelt. My head cracked against the rear window as the leather lost its grip on my back. With both feet on the brake I tried to get the car straightened out, but we looped into a 360.

The car shuddered to a halt across the road and the Ferrari sat there; with a stalled engine in a smell of overheated rubber. The little goat still stood there on my right, trees were straight ahead, and headlights blinded me from my left. I shielded my eyes and heard a car door open. That's when a bullet flew past my head. As I rolled out the passenger side - blessing my stars for no seat belt - I heard a bullet slam into the car. I plunged into the brush on the right side of the road. Bullets chased me. I managed about three running steps off the road's shoulder when I felt fire lance into my back, the ground disappeared and the darkness took me.


	4. Chapter 4

Four – Rita Waits

I looked at the clock again. It was after midnight and I hadn't heard from Tom yet. I picked up my cell phone from the coffee table and flipped the cover open. No missed calls. He'd said he would call when he started back. It wasn't even twenty five miles from the restaurant he was casing to Robin's Nest and way the Tom drove, he should be back soon.

I tried to stay interested in a fitness magazine, but my eyes kept creeping to the clock. I threw down the magazine, the glossy pages filled with people who looked like they never did anything else but exercise. I prowled around the room looking at some of the bric-a-brac Tom kept in Robin Master's guesthouse. The mantle held a surf ski trophy, an ancient picture of Tom and his team from Vietnam, along with a picture of his grown daughter Lilly and another of Michelle, his first wife who was killed right here on O'ahu. I picked up Michelle's picture and looked at her pretty Eurasian face.

"Michelle, I'm not trying to replace you." She smiled back at me. "You have to believe me." I felt that her dark eyes disagreed. I carefully set it back on the mantel. "Sorry you feel that way, hon."

A few more turns of the living room and I was even more fidgety. How did Tom feel living back here after all this time? Didn't he want his own place? Or maybe he was naturally frugal – I mean cheap – and was enjoying Robins charity? Seemed to me he was marking time or waiting for something. He still owned his condo back in Virginia Beach, and I think he should sell or lease it out and move here permanently. I suggested that one time. He'd thrown down the newspaper he was reading and stomped out the room. Needless to say, I haven't brought it up since. But still… it wasn't like he was totally poor. Plus my house was big enough, if he wanted to move in. But he wasn't quite ready for that either.

In anger I picked up my cell again and went upstairs to the porch. The night air was refreshing and I stretched out in the hammock. By now another forty-five minutes had passed and no Tom. I called his cell and it went right to voice mail. I didn't leave a message. Reception was spotty around some Hawaii roads with mountain peaks and steep sided gorges blocking signals.

I waited five minutes and tried again. This time I spoke to the electronics. "Tom, its Rita. You ok? It's getting pretty late. Call me."

Another fifteen minutes passed and nothing happened. I called his number again and the cheery voice mail answered again. I flipped the phone shut and peered into the dark. Tom where are you? I didn't want to do it but I called Nick at the Main House. On the third ring he answered.

"Nick Christopher speaking. Robin's Nest."

"Nick, I hate to wake you, but this is Rita, but it's really late and Tom isn't back yet." I tried to sound calm, even if I wasn't.

I head a rustle of cloth over the phone. "That's OK, Rita I wasn't asleep. Just lying here in the dark. Counting sheep I suppose."

"I'm sorry anyway to bother you. Uh, Tom said he'd call when he left Kaaawa and I haven't heard anything. And I know this isn't any concern of yours, but I'm worried. Something doesn't feel right."

"What in the heck was Tom doing way up there tonight?"

I laughed. "Oh, I passed on his name to a lady I have fragile contact with and he took on her divorce investigation. He went up the shore to recon her wandering hubby. Or at least she thinks he's jumped the fence." Then I got really serious. "Do you think he's in trouble?"

He laughed. "Rita, you know Thomas Magnum pretty well by now. Of course he's in trouble. Either he's done something bad or someone else has." The ex-Special Forces soldier took over. "Maybe we'd better go look for him."

"Oh yeah, like we'll find him walking along the road somewhere." Actually that was a good possibility. "What you think? Be ready in five minutes?"

Nick spoke. "Make it fifteen. I'd better fill in Jonathan. I'll get you up in the SUV."

"Nick he was only going to play waiter at some restaurant. How much trouble could he get into?"

He laughed again. "Rita sometimes trouble finds us. See you in a bit."

I hung up and going downstairs rummaged through my gym bag for something darker to wear. Before you ask I _was_ staying the night in the Guest House. Tom was going to teach me to use a surf-ski in the morning. Naturally I brought extra clothes. Swim suit, spare shirt, shorts… my nightgown. Just so you know.

I stripped off my white polo shirt and substituted a black sweatshirt blazoned with "King Kamehameha Club" across the chest. Rick Wright gave it to me as keepsake of the fund raising banquets we used to hold there when he was manager. He's involved in his condo development, but I still see him around once in a while.

Next I scrubbed my face with cold water and then soap, mostly to strip off the glossy eye makeup and lipstick - no sense standing out in the moonlight - and also to wake up. Eleven was my usual bedtime and was getting late – or early.

I brushed my long hair and looked at myself in the tiny bathroom mirror. I stared at the tall slender image the mirror showed me. Not too many gray hairs to be seen in my dark locks. My face was holding up and my body too. Not too bad for forty. "What _do_ you want, Rita?" I asked the pretty woman's reflection. "I'll tell you what," my likeness answered, "I want Thomas Magnum to be here and to be safe." My mirror-inage smiled. "Now go get him girl."

I went out to my car and from the trunk pulled my badge and service automatic from the bolted down gun safe. I checked the action and it was smooth. No sense being a Postal Inspector without the right tools. Did Ben Franklin imagine what his postal service would become in about 250 years after he started it? But I had been on stakeouts in grimy alleys and the open Texas desert where things could be lot trickier than merely delivering the mail.

I clipped the holster to the pistol belt and harnessed up. A four-cell aluminum barreled flashlight fit my hand like a club and the handcuffs fit neatly into a pouch. A black cap let me tuck my long hair out of my face. I closed the trunk and waited for Nick hoping this was a false alarm. Magnum was probably out of gas or had a flat tire in a no-reception zone. But my intuition said that was not true.

Intuition tells me many things. What to wear, how to speak in a confusing meeting at work, how to introduce myself to strangers, and now this. I was very certain that Tom was in trouble. The darkness pressed in on me and it felt weird. Next I felt a spasm in my back. Stretching didn't help and that told me that something was really going on. Something bad about someone I cared for.


	5. Chapter 5

Five – Nick Prepares

I limped down the hall and tapped on Higgins' bedroom door. I hated to wake him at his age, but on the second knock his door flew open.

Jonathan Higgins stood there in a robe and slippers. His dark eyes pierced me with questions. "What is it, Nick?" His voice was scratchy but matched his lined face. His hair was gray and going, but he stood as erect as his 92-year old frame could bear.

"You're still awake?" I asked.

"I am reading an Ellery Queen mystery, if you must know. I've always thought that Simon Brimmer got a lousy deal in those books. What's wrong Nick?"

"Rita Barzkoff just called. She's staying at the guest house tonight. Magnum went out on a case this evening and isn't back nor has he called." Nor? I was using the word _nor_ in a sentence? Higgins was wearing off on me.

Higgins smiled an evil smile and his eyes sparkled. "He's probably laying in a ditch somewhere the result of another imprudent choice on his part." He sniffed. "You know how he is. He hasn't changed a bit after all this time. I can tell you stories! There was the time Magnum..."

I turned in disgust and stomped back to my room slamming the door behind me. Diving into the closet I heaved my army duffle onto the bed and pulled out what I might need. Two flashlights, LED headlamp, a rucksack, canteen, first aid kit, some belt webbing, my knife, ten meters of nylon rope and from the bottom lifted my 9mm Glock semi-automatic pistol and the holster. I rubbed my hand along the steel brushing away the dust of a far-away desert. The hall door swung open and Higgins stood there.

"Nick?" His eyes bulged when he saw the pistol. "Good heavens man! You're not intending to take that with you?"

I hefted the gray steel device. "Yes, I am." The magazine slid into the handle and it went home with a sharp snap. I stuffed the other items into the rucksack and pulled on a dark green long-sleeve shirt. The pistol went onto the belt so I slipped on heavy boots, picked up my black cane and stalked towards the hall.

"You really _are_ going." Higgins stuck out his hand as I got to the door. "You're serious?"

I just stared at him.

Higgins twitched his mouth and then whispered. "Take care, lad."

I shook his hand. "I will, Jonathan." I pulled on an army slouch hat as I went out.

He patted my shoulder as I passed. "Good hunting," he said with understanding. "Bring him back."

"We'll try. Rita and I are just going to go up the road and look for him."

"Do a damn sight better than try, will you?" He harrumphed. "Just be careful. And take care of that sweet girl."

"Roger! I mean, yes, sir." I stumped down the hall. "Should be a piece of cake," I threw over my shoulder.

Higgins laughed and I turned. "Nick, never forget the amazing ability of Magnum to get himself into trouble."

"He is what he is, Jonathan." The stairs flew under my feet as I went downstairs. I yelled up to Higgins. "Don't wait up!"

He yelled down to me. "Fat chance of that!"

I heard him mutter as he went back into his bedroom. "Bloody Thomas Magnum. What are you up to now?"

I grabbed the keys to Robin Masters new SUV and went out the front door.


	6. Chapter 6

Six – Down and Dirty

I had a funny dream. I was working for an airline in public relations and it had been one fouled up day. Crushing meetings about advertising budgets, manpower, hiring, and TV spots – you know – a real fun one. After driving home through terrible Los Angeles traffic, dealing with the kids jumping all over me, eating a cold meatloaf dinner and getting frosty looks from my wife, I finally plopped in front of the TV at 10 PM.

This detective show was on and the guy had it made. He lived rent free at some tycoon's place, drove a Porsche convertible, and pretty much had his pick of the ladies. He had sidekicks too. One guy ran a bar and the other flew supplies to oilrigs by helicopter. The whole thing seemed stupid to me. The rich guy sure owed the detective or he'd throw him out, considering all the trouble he got into. And then there was the head butler who ran the place - a real piece of work - constantly getting under his skin.

In this episode some thugs from Reno were after him and had him cornered in a box canyon. He was crawling under mesquite and scrub with bullets nosing closer. Someone yelled out his name. "Flynn! H.H. Flynn! We know you're in there! Come out or we'll shoot!"

A bug bit me on the cheek and I realized I had dirt in my mouth, nose, and eyes. The silly TV dream turned into reality and I felt really rough. If I could just rest, I thought I'd be ok. But the bug kept biting. When I could take it no longer I brushed the tiny chomper off my face and spat out a mouthful of dirt. I wiped more goo out of my eyes and took stock. I could barely see in the gloom and I was face down on a steep slope. There was horrible pain in my back and wet leaves and flowers were all around me. Night birds were calling in the distance and there were voices too, calling my name but sounds were muffled oddly. That's when the headache hit me.

"Magnum! I know you're down there!" called a female voice.

A fainter male voice answered. "For God's sake Jackie! Stop it! Jesus! Don't wave that thing at me!"

"Shut up, just shut up Frank! Can't you figure this out?" I heard branches rustle. "Now come over here and help me find him. Or we're both going to jail!"

My muzzy brain figured out they were talking about me. That explained the pain, the dirt, and the monster headache. I tried to crawl forward and managed a few feet. I lay there in agony for a few seconds and the pain eased a bit. If I could just stay and here and rest.

Suddenly Lt. Jack MacReynolds was crouching next to me. "Hey, Magnum. Want some donuts? They're really good!" Mac was squatting there teasing me with an outstretched white box of donuts. I could smell the fried dough. "Come on, all you need to do is come over here and get them!" He retreated into the bushes and vines.

I shook my head to clear it and crawled a few yards more. My left knee started acting up. Donuts sure sounded good. I pushed through a wall of vines and saw Mac eating a crispy cruller. Not possible.

He put down the box and moved closer. "Magnum, you look lousy."

"Mac," I croaked as he faded from sight. I shook my head to clear it and realized how crazy it was. Mac was dead a very long time. As I got a little more aware, I could hear more shouting, but not at me. Frank and Jackie were having an argument. The muffled words ended with a slap and a yell.

"Frank! You hit me! You fat…"

"Now wait a minute Jackie. All I wanted was…not the gun! Jesus. Calm down."

"Listen Frank, I know what you wanted. You wanted money first and my body second. Well listen you snake. If we don't get this guy, there won't be anything. Not now; not ever. Now go move that red monstrosity off the road."

"What should I do with it?"

"Stupid." She got louder and her words penetrated the thicket. "Get that thing started. Are the keys in it? Good. Drive it down the road a ways. A couple hundred yards should do it. Park it in the bushes if you can. Then get your ass back here so we can get this guy."

Her words boomed through the pain and into my throbbing head. I head the Ferrari starter whine, gears ground then meshed and it drove away. Well there goes my car. I hope Frank didn't tear up the clutch too much. The V-8 engine noise got fainter as it left. Another car started and went back to the north and it stopped. Made sense they'd get the cars off the road, just in case a patrolman showed up.

More cursing from the road was directed at Frank and not me. That was good news for now. I crawled a few yards more until I could see more. I levered myself up and poked around in my lower back with my right hand. There was piece of wood, several in fact, sticking out of my back, down low on my right side. I grabbed the largest and pulled. It felt like I was pulling a kidney out, but that passed. The strip of wood gleamed in the starlight. About the size of a pencil in width, it dripped blood. The pain actually got better. A few more splinters followed the first, but how big does a splinter have to be before you call it a tomato stake? Hurt like - well you know. I patted through my pockets and came up with eighty dollars in soggy bills in my wallet, and some cards. No cell phone. I'd left it in the Ferrari.

I reversed the silly cummerbund, putting the strap in front and pulled it tight. At least it might lessen any bleeding back there. There was blood, and I could feel some more leak out as I moved. There would be more. I pulled off the silly tie and put it in my pocket – it might be useful later.

My head throbbed and I heard Mac say, "Come on Magnum! Whatcha gonna do? You just gonna lie there bleeding?"

"Go away, Mac," I muttered. He did go away. Surely someone would have heard the shots and the screech of tires. But out here in the country there probably weren't that many people to notice. It was a Thursday, so no joyriding teenagers or Marine aviators from Kaneohe out for a spin. I was down to my own resources. Maybe I could even the odds.

I was in a little gap in the undergrowth and a little more light leaked through the canopy. I managed to sit straighter and not scream, but it was a race between my head and back which one would make me yell. Jackie must have shot into a tree and flying wood bit me. At least the holes in my back didn't come from tungsten steel. I wiped more ooze from my face and smeared it over the white shirt. I scooped up more moist soil and covered my face, neck, and as much of the white shirt as I could reach, front and back. There were a few things I had learned in Nam. Now it was time for me to go after those who hurt me.


	7. Chapter 7

Seven – Hunters

"Nick?" I asked.

"Yes, Rita?"

"You ever get the feeling that you were connected to someone? I mean mentally?"

He turned to me, the planes of his face lit by the soft green dash lighting. "You've never been in combat, but if you had, you'd know the answer."

"I'll take that for a yes," I said.

He twitched the wheel to avoid some debris on Highway 83 as we rolled north. We'd passed Kaneohe already and in a few minutes, according to the GPS navigator, we'd be rounding the bend at Kahaluu for the run north.

"I have to admit that you sure look like a field operative in that getup, Rita."

"What? And you don't?" I waved to his dark clothing. "You brought even more gear," I said hooking a thumb at his pack in the back seat. "Besides, I've been around. Had bad guys shoot at me, taken one or two down, but mostly run investigations from the office. But I have been in the field."

Nick chuckled. "I'd rather be in an office than lugging a rifle. But, yeah, I did bring stuff. Can't be too careful, you know? Boy Scout and all that."

I laughed. "We look a pair, don't we? Maybe we're really crime fighters and these are our superhero outfits." I laughed some more.

"Ok. I'll call you Batwoman." He laughed.

"Sure, but if I'm Batwoman, then who are you? Did she have a sidekick?"

Nick snickered. "Just call me 'The Caned Avenger.'"

"Then turn on the Bat-radar my sidekick, and see if we can spot our wayward friend."

"When do we start looking?" he asked.

I couldn't help the sarcasm as I said, "If you slowed to about thirty we'd get a better look."

Nick tromped on the brakes and we slowed twenty five miles an hour. "You know this is like looking for a black cat in a dark room, with a dim flashlight, don't you?"

"Yup. If we have to we go all the way to the restaurant and come back south." I wasn't very encouraged by his manner. "Nick, Magnum is up here and in trouble. I know it." My back was aching more and more.

Nick studied the dash. "I know it too. Don't ask me how. I can…"

"Feel it?" I finished for him.

"Yeah." He laughed. "Funniest thing. We had this guy in our outfit - Scooter was his handle. And Scooter, well, he was funny about IEDs, you know booby traps."

I didn't really want a war story. "How funny?"

"Well, please don't think is too odd, but when he got close to one, his hands tingled."

"Tingly hands?" I chuckled at the thought. "Soldiers in the field warned by…?"

"Yeah and he was right too. Almost, always."

I glanced down at his black carbon fiber cane angled across the console between us. The fiber weave caught the light.

He saw my glance and then reached out to touch his cane. "The physical therapist says I'll probably use one of these things for the rest of my life. Until they can figure out a way to grow back the nerves in my foot, that is."

I let the silence continue as we ate up another mile. "Scooter? Uh, was he there, when you…"

He put his right hand back on the wheel and sat a bit straighter. "Nah. That week he wasn't with us. He was in the base hospital with raging high blood pressure. I heard by the grapevine that after he got better, he got shipped stateside. He was just sick, all that time. You know?"

"Too weird. What happened to Scooter?"

"Oh, he did alright. Got discharged. He's now a used car salesman in Huntsville, Alabama. Got a wife and two kids; little boys." Nick shook his head. "I don't hold it against him."

I asked as gently as I could, "Do you think if he was there?"

"Yeah, he'd have found it." Nick was silent for moment. "Just one of those things. But why are we talking about this?"

I stared out the side window at the passing ocean, the whitecaps just visible. "Because I can tell what Magnum is feeling. Right now."

"You can? Really."

"Yes, I can. Weird. I know he's in pain, and it's dark."

"How can you tell?"

I laughed. "Because my back is killing me and I've got the worst headache. And I feel… but I only get these kinds of feelings when I'm really close feelings for someone."

He grunted. "Like Magnum."

"Yup." I looked at the dark landscape passing and wondered where Thomas was.

Nick stared straight ahead. "I can tell you two are very close." He paused. "What else is he feeling?"

"He's determined. And he's really mad."


	8. Chapter 8

Eight – Monsters and Villagers

Do you remember those old monster movies we used to watch as kids? Mad scientist creates monster, monster escapes, and the villagers, who are blissfully unaware all this time, eventually assemble into a mob and start raging through the countryside with pitchforks and blazing torches, looking for the monster? At this point I was the monster, and the villagers were searching.

I heard the crunching of feet as Frank and Jackie plunged into the tropical forest. I stayed still as I heard them slide down the embankment I had fallen down and start crunching through frond stems and branches. When Rick, TC, and I escaped from that Nam prison camp, we were able to dodge our pursuers more than once by staying motionless in the jungle. But it was even easier this time. These guys were amateurs. And I had good camo on now – plenty of mud.

Jackie came stumbling past with Frank in tow. Her high heels were not fit for this terrain. "Come on, Frank. Do I have to do all the dirty work?"

The glimpse I had of her was not pretty. Her beautiful hair was tangled, the sequined dress mud to the ankles and her pretty white arms were scratched. She was holding a revolver and held a flashlight out at arms length. I tried to remember how many shots she'd fired – four? Five? Had she reloaded? Was it even the same gun?

Frank trudged along after her, ducking under vines and leaves. He pulled his shirt open even more at the neck as he went along. "Jackie? Can you slow down?" Her flashlight beam swept back over him.

"Come on!" she yelled. He obeyed.

I waited a few seconds for Frank to move further then managed to pull myself upright without screaming. Limping along after them, now _I_ was the villager. With all the thrashing noises they were making through various plants, vines, and branches, I could trail them without too much trouble. Once in a while, Jackie turned completely around casting her light around the jungle. Like a lighthouse, though, she made a steady circular sweep. If she'd had the smarts to wave it at random, she might have seen me. But even with a banged up leg, bleeding holes in my back, and a throbbing head, I could avoid her light.

They finally stopped in another small clearing. Frank sagged to the ground in exhaustion. "Jackie, listen to me! This is not what I signed up for, ok? I just thought we talk a little business…"

That got her going. "Listen!" she almost screamed. "This is not about you."

"For God's sake why'd you have to take a shot at him?"

She stood over Frank in the darkness, casting the light around. "Did you think I was fooling when I said I recognized him? Cripes, Frank! The guy's a detective! Don't you get it?"

I mouthed the words _private investigator_.

"If he tells the cops what he knows, that he's seen us together…" she petered out.

"So what?" Frank sprang up and grabbed her arm. "So we had dinner!" he hissed. "Then you talk me into waiting outside the restaurant with you until he leaves and then you tried to run him off the road! Then you pull out a gun and shoot at him!" He shook her. "Is this worse than him just _seeing_ us?"

I could see her slump in the dimness. The moon was a little higher and I could see them better.

"Well, Frank, if Billy found out I was with you…"

"Your boyfriend, right? The hell with him, ok? All I wanted to do was borrow some money, just to get my extra presses installed, right? Get my business back on track."

"But if Billy sent him, that would be worse than the cops."

"Worse?" He spun around looking into the jungle. "Worse? A little problem with your boyfriend, but now this?" He was getting screechy.

"Yeah, worse. After Billy's boys would get done with us, then we'd get a one-way trip into the channel. If you only knew the dirty business that Billy's involved in. And what I know about it!" She slumped. "Ok, it just started about money. But Frank… I think… oh, dammit." She put her arms around him for a minute. "We need to find this guy and stop him."

They broke their clinch and started back into the brush. I waited until they walked for a couple minutes then went back towards the road. Behind me I could hear them assaulting the jungle. Sounded like it was fighting back. I probably made it about thirty yards until I fell over something and it got very dark again. But I could swear I heard a kudu buck bleating as I passed out.


	9. Chapter 9

Nine – Evidence

I held the steering wheel tightly as we slowed around another bend in the road.

"Nick! Stop!" Rita yelled. She climbed out after I pulled onto the narrow shoulder. There were skid marks on the blacktop. The truck's headlights and fog lamps lit the scene like day and even from the truck I could see those marks making almost a complete circle.

Rita waved for me to come to her. I hobbled out and went to where she was pointing. I could see wide tire skid marks with bits of rubber scattered across the road. "Wow! Someone really lost it on that turn up there." I pointed towards the next turn, another tight one on this stretch of 83.

Rita was trying to span the width of the marks with her hand, which was not that dainty. "Nick, look at there monsters. What do you think?"

"I think we're pretty close." I bent down and picked up some of the rubber bits, sheared off a tire during extreme punishment. They smelled burnt. "Rita, here, take a whiff."

She smelled the stuff. "Ick. I'm thinking this wasn't long ago. And the pavement is dry. This wasn't from sliding on wet tires."

"Yeah. Let's drive south a little bit. Maybe we'll see something." We were getting back in the truck when an old pickup truck came north and stopped next to us.

The tutu kane inside asked spoke to us. "Aloha! You two alright?"

"Thank you, grandfather, just checking our map," I lied.

"Ok. But I think there's a car down the road in the bushes." He pointed behind him. "Maybe I should call the police?"

Rita grabbed my arm. "We'll do it. Aloha!" she called to the old man.

The old man waved then drove away into the dark, a busted muffler rattling as he went. Just another farmer.

Rita was nudging me. "We'd better hurry up, in case he calls the cops."

I cranked the SUV into a one-eighty turn and drove slowly south. Rita held her massive flashlight peering into the bushes on her side. "See anything?"

"No, keep going. Wait, stop right here. Look!" She pointed.

I could just see a bit of red poking out of the green tangle along the road. "Is that what I think it is? Let me get this bus parked." I got the truck off the road and could see tire marks from the road and into the brush. "Ah." I killed the lights. "Can't be too cautious."

We climbed out and looked at the tread marks in the dirt. "Boy, those sure are wide tires…" she said.

I pulled on my headlamp, flicked it on, and pulled out my gun.

"You, really need that thing?"

"Yes, I do. Come on." Fifteen feet off the road, Magnum's Ferrari sat empty. We circled it.

Rita felt the engine cover. "Still warm."

"No obvious damage, except for deep scratches on the right fender. Looks like a branch hit it." The keys were gone. I walked around the car and found a bullet hole in the left rear B-pillar, right behind the driver's headrest. I showed it to Rita. "Believe me now?" I raised my Glock and flipped off the safety.

"Yeah, trouble." Rita fished out her service automatic as we stood there. "Now what?"

"We find him. I think Magnum is either nearby or he's been taken somewhere."

"Well, this answers one thing." She lifted a cell phone from a door pocket. She turned it off and stuck it into her jeans. She looked at the green and brown vegetation surrounding us. "Which way?"

I bent down looking at footprints going from the car - the driver's side - up to the road. "I don't think these are Magnum's shoes. Too small."

Rita nodded her head. "Ok, Avenger. Let's lock up the truck and walk back up to the skid marks."

"Rog, Batwoman. A little recon won't hurt."

So that's what we did. She took the left shoulder and I walked on the right. I was looking for more marks or tracks, or anything. Other than beer bottles and other trash didn't see anything. We walked about a tenth of a mile, and my foot was starting to kill me. Not really uneven ground but the road undulated and the up and down hurt, a lot. I was about ready to give up, when Rita gave out a low whistle.

With her too good legs - I mean good working not shapely, but they were nice looking - she'd covered a greater distance. I limped over to her.

"Look," she whispered and pointed.

I could see a man-sized hole in the wall of jungle right next to a trumpet tree with chunks of bark shot away. I could see where a slug had impacted the trunk at an angle. I glanced back at the road. "Rita, looks like this bullet came from up the road. That away. Past those tire marks."

Rita was squatting down looking at the dark soil. "Look at the shoe prints! They're all over." She gave me a concerned look and we started down a slope below the road's edge. As I fought my way down the muddy slope, I heard a goat call out somewhere.


	10. Chapter 10

Ten – Bush Whacking

Nick went down the muddy slope and he managed to make it down with no great trouble – cane and all. I took one last look at the wide open road behind me and started down. I grabbed at branches and leaves and managed to get down and stop, fully upright.

"You ok?" Nick whispered.

I nodded.

"OK, let's use the lights carefully and be quiet." He flashed his light at the forest floor. "Looks like someone fell over here and dragged themselves; that way."

"Lead on Avenger. Right behind you. Unless you want me to lead?"

Nick held his gun in his left hand, cane in his right, and his eyes had a determined look. "I might be banged up, but I can still take point. Now let's move out. Get on my right about fifteen feet away and keep your eyes peeled."

He moved swiftly and I tailed him through the tangle of vines, bushes, and small trees. I could just see Nick in the gloom. In spite of his limp and cane he floated like a ghost through the dark.

We made our way for fifteen minutes or so and when he stopped and I caught up. The tangled growth and oozy ground hampered our way but we were making our way steadily.

Nick asked "How you holding up?"

I wiped sweat off my face and resettled the cap on my head. "I'm alright. Are you doing ok?"

He patted his injured left leg. "In spite of everything, it works well enough. Long enough to reach the ground."

"How far are we going here?"

"I figure we'll go straight another five minutes then double back or split up if we have to." He looked at the ground again. "Still tracks – but there are more of them."

"Split up?" I didn't like the sounds of that. "In all this mess?"

"Yeah. But I'd rather not." He looked down. "What the heck is that?"

I bent down and saw a funny track. "Looks like high heels to me." I shook my head. "What a mess. Magnum's sure done it this time."

"And what are those?" He was pointing to more marks off to the side.

I peered down where his light was pointing. "Goat tracks?" I blurted out.


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven - Explanations

Jackie jabbed me with the gun barrel in the ribs, and it hurt - a lot. "Ok, Magnum, if that's who you really are – now what did Billy tell you to do? Huh?" She poked me again. "Drop it!"

I let the sorry looking bolo drop to the ground and I took a long look at my captor. She didn't look much better than me, but I think the mud on her face was from falling down, not plastered there on purpose. "Hi, Jackie." I grunted as she jabbed me again. "Stop doing that!" I yelled. I heard my voice echo off a hillside somewhere.

Frank blundered his way to us and he didn't look much better than I did or felt. "Oh, great!" he said. "We found him. Now what do we do?"

Jackie cocked her head at him but kept her eyes on me. I could see that much in the dimness. "What do you think?"

I needed to be part of this conversation. "Now, wait a minute! Just wait a minute, will you?" I bent over and held my throbbing skull. "Just let me explain, alright."

"Be quick!" she hissed.

I stood although it felt like I might fall over at any moment. Part of my brain was trying to figure the angles but it hurt too much to think.

Mac whispered in my ear. "Magnum, you'd better tell them the truth."

Why was Mac here? Why not any of my other ghosts? I was pondering this one when Jackie poked me again. "Alright!" I yelled at Mac and the bedraggled pair. "Alright. Frank, Deirdre thinks you're having an affair."

"Deirdre?" He turned to Jackie. She gave him a dirty look. "Yeah."

"Come on, Mr. Waiter tell us…" she hissed at me.

"Ok!" If only that drum player would quick pounding quite so hard. "She hired me to tail you. She found the dinner date written in your day planner. So I made some phone calls and subbed as a waiter – your waiter."

"I thought you were _listening to us_." She shook her head wearily. "What did you hear? And tell me about Billy. How much is he paying you?

"Billy? Who's Billy?"

She almost screamed at me. "You know damn well!" She raised the gun to poke me again, when Frank grabbed her arm.

"Jackie, stop it!" Frank was yelling too. "He doesn't know. He's telling the truth."

She whirled on him. Now the gun was pointed at him. "You believe this guy? I told you I've seen him hanging out with Rick Wright. I know for a fact that Rick has connections. Why else would he be with him?"

"Rick and I are just friends from Vietnam days." I paused as the world swam around me. "Rick doesn't have anything to do with this!" I was getting pretty mad.

But Jackie was even madder. Luckily she turned her rage on Frank. "You believe him? Thanks, Frank! Thanks a whole lot! Why I ever got mixed up with you, I don't know." She turned my way. Tears were streaming down her face. "Frank, Frank - you don't get it, do you? I've been trying to tell you that I've known about you for a long time."

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"I've known your wife for years. We're not friends, just that we've seen one another at school fundraisers. I went to the school where your kids go. I've always supported that school, in spite of everything. So I kept hearing about how her Frank did this and Frank did that at meetings. You sounded…"

"You know my wife? Oh shit!" I could tell the gears were starting to turn for Frank too. "And I sounded what?"

Jackie sobbed. "Nice, alright?" She gave Frank a push.

"You mean?"

"Yes," she said and tears were flowing. "Your wife mentioned that your business was getting clobbered, so I had a friend call you about being interested in your business."

"So when we had dinner, I wanted to talk about money…"

"Yeah, you goof. All about the money. Why do you think I got dolled up like this for?" She turned to me. "Then I got the idea that Billy sent this detective to spy us."

"_Private investigator_," I blurted. My head was no feeling better. As this semi-domestic discussion was going on, I kept hearing rustling in the undergrowth. Tentative soft footsteps that I could make out, but Frank and Jackie were distracted.

"Jackie, believe me, someone told me you were looking for investment opportunities." He said it so honestly even I believed him. "So I went to the restaurant. I had no idea…" He looked stricken. "All I want is thirty grand, just to get those new presses installed."

She glared at him, holding the gun and waving it from me to Frank and back again. "Frank, you goof. Help me out, ok? I'll give you all the dough you want, and we can travel anywhere, just get off this island with me, and we'll go somewhere where Billy won't find me!"

When I took this divorce case I had some idea that things would go wrong. They usually did. Higgins was right. Boy was he right. These things were never easy, and I never made much dough on them. This one had turned into a twisted Romeo and Juliet and it was starting to make sense. Frank wanted money. Jackie wanted a new boyfriend and she had the goods on Billy, her current guy. She wanted to be rid of Billy, but safely.

Frank moved towards her a step or two but didn't touch her. "Jackie, come on. We just met, and while I like you and your looks, I can't run away and drop everything. My kids, the business, my wife!"

Jackie gave Frank an angry shove just as a little gray goat leapt into the clearing, knocking the gun from her hand.

"Run Magnum!" yelled Mac. So I ran like hell.


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve – Finding

Rita was pointing to the animal tracks in the dirt when I heard noises coming from dead ahead - voices with a lot of crashing and crackling. I motioned to Rita to move out to my right and to stay quiet. I got to hand it to her she followed my hand signals without question. I got behind a medium size tree but I could still see a little way into the woods.

I gripped the pistol firmly in my left hand and switched off the headlamp. No use giving our position away. I glanced over my shoulder and Rita turned off her flashlight. Perfect ambush. Now if we only knew what was heading towards us?

Something was crashing through the bushes and as it got louder and louder I could hear words.

"Stop!" A female voice. "Stop! Or I'll shoot!" Straight out of an old western movie.

Another voice - male followed. "Jackie, you can't mean that!" More crunching. "Hey! Stop, both of you!"

Suddenly a figure lurched through the vegetation ahead of me. Some giant bedraggled, mud-smeared shape staggered along, slinging itself around trees and thicker clumps of plants. Something, or someone, that looked very familiar. I grabbed an arm to slow it down. It dropped and fell face up on the forest floor. It was the muddiest person I have seen in a long time. The eyes looked like red-rimmed holes in a dirt floor, hair in tangles, clothes ripped and spattered with grime. It was Magnum! And he had a less than happy evening.

Rita scooted over and crouched over him. "Magnum! What happened to you?"

His dazed eyes blinked up at us. "They're coming!" he hissed.

Rita stood, turned, and straddling Magnum's body, leveled her pistol as a grimy screaming blonde waving a revolver rushed right into our midst. The Postal Inspector took a bead on her and yelled "Freeze!"

I think the lady in the dirty sequined dress might have snapped off a shot, but I stopped her with a growl. "Don't try it!" Her face turned to me and she dropped the gun. Her hands shot up.

A man, almost as grubby, ran after the lady and skidded to a stop when he saw us. He meekly put up his hands. "Don't shoot!" He pointed to the blonde. "It's all her fault!"

I asked the prone figure, now trying to sit up. "Are you ok? Magnum?"

"Yeah!" He coughed a bit. "Oh man, this headache!" he said as he sat up. He stared at Rita's rear end for a moment and smiled. He peered around Rita's legs, which had been blocking his view. "Hi, Jackie! Have you met my friends?" And he smiled more just as a gray goat bounded past us.


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen – The Balance Sheet

The balance sheet looked like this. Forty dollars to the waiters to stay home. I made eighty dollars in tips. Plus gas to drive up the coast and back.

Fifteen hundred dollars damage to the Ferrari. The fender was easy, but the bullet hole was costly.

I owed the uniform shop seventy-five dollars for the ruined waiter's duds and shoes. The shop owner was not happy when I tried to explain how they got ruined. So I had to pay.

Another eighty bucks to have the SUV detailed after Nick and Rita shoved my bedraggled body into the back seat after the police let us go. You would not believe how hard the detail shop had to work to get all the mud off the leather seats.

Thirteen hundred dollars for the Emergency Room visit, another hundred-twenty in pills, and about a three thousand in X-rays, a visit to my internist, and a trip to an ear-nose-and throat expert about my persistent dizziness.

Deirdre paid me for my time – six hundred bucks – but she took Frank back anyway. Although considering Frank was under indictment for assault and kidnapping I'm not sure how long they will be together. She was glad Frank wasn't playing around, but wasn't happy about the charges. I wished her well but as for Frank - I held my judgment. Maybe the DA would cut him a deal.

And then there was Jackie. Jackie's friend Billy was well known to the police detectives. He was a medium-sized player in the imported drug business – the illegal kind. And Jackie knew a lot about his business partners, warehouses, and who was taking bribes on the docks to get the stuff onto the island. She parlayed a deal with the Federal attorneys and sang like the proverbial canary. She'll probably end up in a Witness Protection program, so she'll be rid of Billy, but won't get Frank. Such is life.

And the little gray goat? Well, Frank and Jackie were getting handcuffed as an EMT was checking me over. Shining a light into my eyes, she asked my questions – name, address, age, who was president – all ways to check my scrambled noggin.

"Do you remember hitting your head?" she asked.

The flashlight made haloes in my vision as she peered at my eyes. "No, I don't, but there was a lot going on right then."

Her burly partner spoke up. "You should go to the ER. Do you wish transport or do you refuse?"

Rita answered. "We'll take him. As soon as you let him go."

I signed some forms then Nick and Rita helped me to the SUV. I was easing myself into the back seat when they paraded my bedraggled diners past me.

"Frank! Jackie!" I yelled. "Bye! Have a nice evening!" I waved. If they answered I didn't hear them as an old green pickup with a blown muffler stopped near us.

An old Hawaiian man leaned out. "Trouble officer?" he asked one of the cops.

"No, just finishing up here. Please keep moving." The cop directed him.

"Well have you seen a little gray goat running around out here? His name is Gerald and I've been looking for him. The little sneak got under my fence a couple of hours ago."

Nick was levering me into the SUV and right near us, I saw his goat peeping out of the bushes.

"Over here!" I yelled and pointed.

The man ran from the truck and happily scooped up Gerald. "Thanks mister! Aloha!" The truck drove away.

I know what you're thinking. It wasn't worth it. It just didn't add up. Too much money wasted, injuries, and a wasted evening. But I solved the case! I can only chalk it up as one of my many cases that had plenty of twists and turns. And even Gerald made it back home.


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteen – Iced Tea

And me? Well, I was getting yelled at it. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.

"How many times have I told you that these divorce cases are a waste of your time? They're beneath you Magnum!" The little major was yelling. You know that I'm right? Don't you?" he screeched. "Lurking in the bushes, being in disguise, sneaking around!"

"Yes, Higgins." I was loaded to the gills with pain relievers, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatory tablets. I was stretched out on Rita's patio looking down the valley towards Waikiki. The sun would set in a little while and the view would be fantastic. As I convalesced at her house for a few days, the knock on the head, holes in my back, and twisted knee were getting better. Sitting on a lounge in the sunlight I could almost forget the whole misadventure. The pills took some of the edge off Higgins voice, but not much.

He'd been scolding me for a few minutes and wasn't running out of steam. "Those two could have killed you! Good god, man! Don't you think it's about time you stopped all this nonsense? Playing detective again! Didn't I tell you that these tasteless and crude divorce cases are too, too…"

Nick smiled wickedly and weighed in. "Tawdry?" I could see that Nick was enjoying this. He knew what Higgins could do when he got like this. Nick had been on the receiving end often enough and was enjoying the show.

Higgins smiled. "Quite."

I stared at Nick with a look that said I'd get him back later. He just laughed.

Rita held out a tray of iced tea as the majordomo was continuing to stick the knife in and twist it. "Jonathan? Iced tea?"

He beamed. "Thank you my dear." He switched off his anger and was all charm. "I do hope you steeped the tea for precisely three minutes in boiling water. And you did use the Oolong I brought you last week? And used cane sugar?"

"Of course, Jonathan." Rita knew how to handle him. "Just as you specified." Rita and Jonathan both knew that politeness and kindness reap rewards. My reward for such an act is to usually get kicked in the teeth.

Higgins took a sip from a tall cold glass. "Ah. Perfect!" He held up the glass and peered through it. "Just as I told you my dear, the tea has the most superb color and taste."

Rita handed a tall cold glass to Nick and then took two for herself and me. She waltzed over and sat on the arm of the lounge and put her arm across my shoulders. She held me as a sign of unity and something else too. She kissed my head.

"Poor Magnum," she whispered into my ear.

Her arm was warm across my neck. At least someone cared.

Higgins put down his glass of tea and with a grim face pounced on me again. "But you, you…" he paused as he searched for just the right word. "Miscreant!" he belted out.

I could only smile and nod. He _was_ right - but don't tell him I said that.

- The End -


End file.
